Returning to the Opera
by JennAnn
Summary: Three and a half years after the opera fire, Christine tries to return to the opera with her husband, Erik's help, but faces opposition, EC. R&R puhleez!
1. Your Fears are Far Behind You

Chapter 1:Your Fears are Far Behind You

Erik looked over at Christine as she slept. How many times had he stayed up watching her sleep? He did not know. But his _ange_ slept peacefully as he sat up, music running through his brain. How close he had come to losing her…losing the hope for children, and a real life.

He ran his hands over the satin sheets and rose. He went over to his desk by the window and looked out at the snowy night. There was no one in the streets except a policeman twirling his baton. Erik shut the curtains and sat at the desk. He took out a piece of paper, inked a quill, and began to draw the five line staff on the paper. He had a new idea.

Just as he sought to write it down, he heard a small cry from the room connecting to his. He looked over at Christine, who still slept, and went to the door. He could hear his daughter, Clarissa, crying and saying "papa, mama." His little angel was quiet as a mouse.

He went in the door and saw her sitting up in her bed, tears running down her face as she looked expectantly at him. He walked over quickly and picked her up. Her little arms surrounded his neck, and she buried her face in his cheek. His unmarked, unmasked cheek.

"Papa…" she sobbed softly.

"What is it, child?" She raised her three year old head.

"A ghost in the closet, Papa." Erik winced at her use of ghost. He'd been called that, but so far had yet to scare his own daughter.

"Let's go see my little diva." She giggled a bit but sobered as he walked over to the closet that held her clothes. She shifted in his arms, trying to create a distance between her and the closet. He opened the closet and rifled through her little frocks of pink and yellow.

"There's nothing here. Let's go back to bed before you wake your Mama."

"Mama!" Clarissa pointed to the door. Too late.

Christine stood there in her robe and held out her arms to her daughter. Erik handed her over and Christine accepted her with a smile.

"My little one, what's the matter?"

"Papa scared away the ghost!" Christine's eyebrow rose at her husband. He shrugged.

"I don't know where she got it from."

"Maybe from the other children."

Clarissa's eyes started to droop again, so Christine towed her over to the bed and put her down. She began to sing an old tune to her, as she sat on the bedspread. Erik joined her.

_…I'm here, with you beside you_

_To guard you and to guide you…_

Clarissa dropped back off into sleep and Erik pulled up her covers. Christine tookErik's hand and smiled at him, tiredly.

"Our little angel is not afraid of her Papa, Erik." He nodded.

"I know."

"Why were you up?" she asked.

"I couldn't sleep." her eyes showed sympathy.

"Are you writing something? Something new?"  
"Yes. I'm not sure of the story, but I have such a tune going through my head."  
They got up and went into their own room.

"I hope it's nothing like Don Juan," her eyes twinkled, " I almost married the wrong man after that one." They both laid back down in their large four-poster bed. Erik wrapped his arms around her and they snuggled deeper into the warm blankets.

"Yes, I know. But you did enjoy it, darling." He spoke of their duet that had inflamed Christine and made her choose her passionate love of him over her childhood sweetheart, Raoul.

"I know. But tell me, will you try to get the managers to do this one, or go to another opera." She spoke of Firmin, the surviving manager after the opera disaster. The chandalier had crashed after Erik cut the rope in a jealous rage. A rage he ought not have gone into, since Christine had no intention of leaving him.

When he cut the rope and took her down, down into the stage and back into his lair, she revealed that she'd taken off his mask in a fit of pressure. She was expected to reveal him, to turn him in. She couldn't do that now. And she kissed him.

He kissed her now, remembering then. She kissed him back and sighed.

"I'm glad you're writing again. Poor Firmin, when he lost Andre after the fire, I thought the opera would never re-open." She stroked Erik's face.

It had taken years, but he' finally felt comfortable around her without the mask. He still wore it a lot, especially with the servants around. When they'd moved to the secluded country, he'd go without it more. But now that they'd come back to the city, he vowed not to go out without it.

Even at their wedding, a month after the disaster, he wore the mask. A near sited priest performed the ceremony , unconcerned. They'd lived under the opera house for a few months, before Christine conceived. When they found out they were having a child, they moved to the country.

The 20,000 francs he'd acquired every month from his old managers held them over still. And as far as anyone knew Christine had married a very shy composer.

"Perhaps you should sing again, Christine." Christine started.

"But…I don't know, Erik. I would love it…but after the scandal at the Opera Populaire, I don't know if I should."  
"I could take care of that," he said darkly. She slapped his arm.

"No, no more phantom sightings. It's bad enough you…" she stopped. She didn't want to think of the two men he'd killed. It frightened her…worried her. It made her reconsider marrying him a few times. But seeing him now, and their child, made her know she'd made her choice wisely.

"Perhaps, Erik. But I'm tired now, please try to sleep. We'll talk of it in the morning."

"Yes, mon ami. I'll contact Giry tomorrow. Perhaps we'll visit Meg, or Firmin himself, eh?"

Christine nodded and let her eyes droop.

"I love you…" She fell asleep before Erik. Erik sat up in the bed and admired her for a few more minutes.

"I promise you will sing again. No matter what it takes."


	2. Let Her Sing For You Monsieur

Chapter 2: Let Her Sing For You Monsieur

As they approached the newly restored Opera Populaire, Christine's mouth hung open. This was not the destruction they'd seen a few years past. The gold statues were a little tarnished, but restored. The steps, the widows…everything that was burned was rebuilt. It was like watching a dead relative resurrect from the grave. Christine shivered.

"Mama?" Clarissa's brown curls shook as she bounced along with Christine in her arms. She stroked her head and inhaled the powder she'd put on her earlier.

"Yes_, bebe_?" Clarissa's little brown eyes searched her mothers.

"Don't be sad, Mama." She patted Christine's arm. Christine laughed.

"I'm not sad, little one. But I would like a hug." Clarissa hugged her with her childhood enthusiasm of being useful. She then pointed up to the giant building.

"Pretty."

Christine nodded. Yes, it was pretty. It was everything she remembered. And how she longed to sing inside it's walls again. She glanced behind her at the carriage that had dropped them off, and Erik's head peeked out. She waved him back, and the carriage drove on down the cobblestones.

She went inside, carefully checking for any rotten or broken floor boards, but found none. When she reached the inside she found Msr. Reyer and Madame. Giry arguing to one another in a heated battle of words.

"…and I know that Carlotta will sing it no matter what. Miseur Firmin will not allow.." Reyer stopped when he spotted Christine, and her child on her hip. He blinked.

"Mademoiselle…er Daae? How are you, my girl." He walked over and took her hand in his spindly grasp.

"Bonjour Monsieur Reyer. I am a Madam now, but still called Daae. This is my daughter, Clarissa." His eyes flashed at hers and he smiled.

"Well it's nice to meet you Clarissa. Christine…we are so lad to see you!" Madam Giry walked up casually, but still smiling. She reached out for Clarissa, who came readily to her Aunt's arms.

"Clarissa, my little poppet, how are you?" Clarissa smiled and stuck a finger in her mouth. As she interacted with Clarissa, Christine looked them both over.

Monsieur Reyer was more stooped, and had a few more lines. He made some excuses and left them, probably to go inform Monsieur Firmin.

Madame Giry had a few more gray hairs weaved into her generous braid, but still looked the same. She let her staff rest against her leg as she talked to Clarissa. Her dark dress, still a sign of mourning for her husband, hung loosely on her ballerina's frame. She was still training.

She glanced at Christine.

"You look very well, my dear. I hope you've been practicing and haven't let your body go?" Christine nodded.

"Good. Well then, shall we?" Giry dropped little Clarissa to her feet and praised her on her ladylike behavior in her very pretty frock. Clarissa beamed.

As Clarissa skipped ahead, and marveled at statues and the large banister leading to the balcony, Christine whispered to Giry.

"Erik talked to you didn't he?" Giry looked at her and nodded. Christine sighed and wrung her hands.

"I told him I'd do it without his help. I just want to sing again…I want to practice with the other girls." Giry nodded.

"And you will. But don't blame Erik, he is doing what's best."

They walked to the backstage, and Christine found many new faces, some old, milling about. They were waiting for Giry's arrival with the manager to announce the new opera, and the new cast. Giry walked with confidence through the dancers and chorus. She motioned for Christine to stay behind the curtain, where she could peak through and watch the proceedings, without being too obvious.

She shushed Clarissa, who stood at the ready to crate mischief. She pointed and shook in anticipation at the other dancers in their pretty outfits. She opened her little mouth at the old sets and props, including a large Elephant replica, made before the fire for _Hannibal._ Christine bent over her.

"Shush, Clarissa. You can play around in a little, be a patient little girl now."

Clarissa nodded and still shook in her little shoes. Christine took out her ballet shoes, and Clarissa's as well.

"Put these on." Clarissa brightened at something to do and sat on the floor, taking of her little black boots to put on her special shoes.

"Ladies an Gentlemen!" Monsieur Firmin came on the other side of the stage. He glanced around, squinting slightly, until a mousy assistant gave him some spectacles. He placed his hands behind his back and surveyed his ensemble.

"We are here to announce who is to be in the upcoming production of Hannibal." The crowd tittered at the reprise they were to do. Christine gasped. This was the opera she had debued in, the one that had started her romance with Erik. It was the opera that had started everyone down a path to destruction and creation.

"As you all know, we have been in talks with Madame Carlotta to sing a reprisal for the role of Clarissa." Little Clarissa's head bobbed up. She leapt up, her ballet shoe ribbons dangling down, untied.

"Mama! My name!" Everyone hushed and looked to the curtain. Madame Giry threw her hands up and Monsieur Reyer groaned. Christine cursed.

When Firmin caught her eye he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. He let his arms fall to his sides. He could see her. She turned to flee, taking Clarissa's hands. But his shout stopped her.

"Mademoiselle Daae! Come back and join us, if you please." He didn't sound angry, or happy. She turned slowly, the giant cast followed their path to the stage. She stopped ten feet from him, and next to Meg. Meg gasped and hugged her.

Firmin looked Christine and Clarissa over. He smiled slightly at Clarissa peaking up at him.

"Bonjour. What is your name little girl?" She smiled proudly, Christine stood weakly.

"My name is," she started in a soft voice, "Clarissa!" The whispers grew louder. Meg bent down to her level.

"What a pretty name, Clarissa."

"The man said my name. Why did he say my name." Christine was still shaken when Clarissa looked up at her.

"Mama?"  
"I told you to stay quiet!" She bent down to her level and Clarissa's lip quivered.

"You won't tell Papa, will you?" More whispers. "Who's the father?" she heard one saucy ballet girl whisper. She stood again.

"I am sorry to bother your meeting, Monsieur. I had wanted to speak to you in private. I should not have come." He looked intrigued.

"No please, stay. We're almost done here. I'll talk to you after our meeting." he turned to his captive audience. "So…the part of Clarissa goes to Carlotta." there were some groans, but he continued. "Madame Giry will cast the main ballet roles, and we will use Peter Andris as our new leading man." The chorus member who had been promoted looked shocked, and received pats of approval from friends.

"Now, rehearsals start this afternoon, let's make our grand opening a good one." He looked at Christine, then to Giry.

"Madame?" Madame Giry came up to Christine and took Clarissa.

"I'll take her, go talk to him Christine." Christine reluctantly let go of her daughter, but soon realized she wouldn't miss her Mama. The cast was already surrounding her and praising her on her cuteness.

"Oh little girl! You are so cute! So pretty! Can you dance, little one?" The girls tittered away and Christine followed Firmin into the office he occupied near the stage.

He enclosed them inside and motioned for her to sit down. He took off his spectacles and gave them to the assistant that had trailed them.

"Leave us, Pierre." The little assistant ran off and Firmin sighed heavily as if a great burden was released off his shoulders. Christine fidgeted in her chair.

"So tell me…why have you returned her, Mademoiselle?"

"It's Madam now, Monsieur. Madam Daae."

"So you kept your last name? Well, I suppose you're a widow then?" He leaned in closer. "Was there a scandal?" She laughed, nervously.

"No, monsieur. My husband decided I should keep my last name, if I go back into singing. He is also very shy, but a composer." His eyebrows rose.

"Really? Well perhaps we shall have to hear his work sometime, eh?" She thought, you already have.

"Well, monsieur, I came to see if you had the opening for the lead soprano…but I see that Carlotta has come back…so I should go."

"Wait," he stopped her rising, " please. I only picked Carlotta because she is all we have in the area, willing to give it a shot. I…" He looked at a loss. He looked out the window.

"When Andre died, I decided that we should press on. He loved the opera, truly did. He loved you, Christine." He looked sadly at her.

"But, when his heart gave out after the fire…Well, he always wanted to know you were alright."

"I'm sorry to have caused worry." She lowered her head

"Well. I wish I could give you the part, Christine…but it's taken. If you come back for the next show perhaps…well I never thought I'd say this, but I wish the Phantom would come back and scare her off. If I would've know you were interested.." He sighed again then rose.

Christine shivered. Ask the Phantom to come back. She glanced around the room and found a peep hole in the office. She shook her head at it. He was there.  
"It is alright, monsieur. I will go. Notify me if something happens." She trailed after him out of the office and onto the stage.

Her little Clarissa was leaping about the stage with other ballerinas. They were all encouraging her and clapping. The chorus members were practicing their music.

_The trumpeting elephant sounds…_

Christine could remember her own debut, her nervous dancing…She called for Clarissa. The girls all groaned and pouted. Meg ran up to her.

"Oh Christine, please stay! She is so much fun. You've taught her so well." Madame Giry came up to them both.

"Christine, you have taught her well. I would be happy to continue the training." Christine looked around and hesitated.

"I-I would have to ask…my husband." Madame Giry nodded and Meg shrugged.

"With a talent like her, he should say yes. " Madame Giry shook her head.

"Maybe not, darling. He is a shy man, and so is Clarissa." Clarissa had gone back to Christine's skirts and hid behind them, while some other girls tried to coax her out.

"I must go. I'll return tomorrow to tell you our plan. Bonsoir." She walked out, head held high with little Clarissa skipping after.

Meg whispered to her mother. "Do you think she'll return?"

Madame Giry could only hope.


	3. Down Once More

Chapter 3: Down Once More

Just as Christine and little Clarissa were passing by the side of the opera house, they heard a PSST! Clarissa stopped and looked about her.

"Hello?" Christine pulled on her hand.

"Come along. We've got to find your Papa."

PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST! Clarissa leapt out of her mother's arms and to an old grate near the back of the Opera House. Two eyes peaked at them.

"Erik!" Christine glanced around and knelt by the grate.

"What are you doing in there?"

"Visiting my old domain. Would you care to join me? He opened the grate.

"NO! It's too damp and dark for her, she'll be scared." Christine frantically looked around for anyone in the streets. There was no one.

"C'mon, she's not scared. I think you are." Christine gasped and walked into the opening he held for them.

"It stinks, Mama!" Clarissa seemed only upset by the smell, and not the darkness.

They slowly made their way to the chapel, where Christine began to cry softly. She spied her father's portrait still sitting next to it's candle. The chapel had not been destroyed.

"Don't cry, Mama." Clarissa looked close to tears herself. Erik took her and sat her on the seat by the stained-glass window.

Christine moved to sit next to the portrait as she used to. Erik knew she needed this time so he spoke softly to Clarissa, who was still frightened. She climbed in his lap and touched the mask the one he hardly wore around her.

"Hiding, Papa?" He nodded and she buried her face in his chest. He began to sing to her softly, an old lullaby.

Christine lit the candle in front of her father's picture. She bowed her head and prayed for him and thanked God for her many blessings. She still cried for her precious father, but was comforted that Erik and Clarissa were there.

She let the candle burn, not knowing if she would return. She stood and turned to her husband.

"I'm ready."

Erik picked up the now tired Clarissa and moved to the hall. Christine looked out to see if it was clear. It was, and they picked their way to her old dressing room. It was empty and dark, it was restored though. New paintings were hung and there were fresh flowers everywhere. The Opera was prepared for La Carlotta.

Erik growled under his breath. "If they think I'll let her…" Christine glanced sharply at him. He cleared his throat and moved toward his mirror.

They went to his old mirror passage, and tried to pry it open. It had been bolted shut. Erik gave a now sleeping Clarissa to Christine. He felt around the mirror until he found a latch which opened the entire frame of the mirror, and not just the glass. He swung it wide open and moved inside the damp passage.

Christine followed and handed Clarissa back, feeling her weight now. Christine was exhausted…emotionally and physically. Erik noticed.

"Christine?" She nodded to him.

"I'll be alright, Erik. Please just hurry. I'd like to sit down." He nodded and continued through the passages.

When they reached the lake, Erik pondered how to get across. He remembered an old passage he barely used, as a shortcut. He moved to the walls and felt them, shifting Clarissa. He found the old passage, very close to one of the rock columns underneath the grand house. He pushed the small rock he found in, and the passage door moved. Christine gasped.

"Mon Dieu." She moved behind him though the passage until they turned and met a solid rock wall.

"Oh Erik…" Christine sounded disappointed, but Erik made her gasp again. He pushed in yet another rock, and the door slid open, revealing the back of his organ.

He stepped around the cobwebs, dust, and scattered music, into his home. Candelabras were broken, music ripped, his curtains torn. The mob had obviously taken his palace apart. Christine's hand flew to her mouth. Erik moved around his old home and looked about.

"It's destroyed." He led them to the room where he had kept Christine once and put his daughter on the swan bed. The same bed he'd laid his wife when he had first brought her to his lair. He looked up at his wife and she smiled sadly.

"I'm so sorry. At least they did not ruin the bed." She sat on it, and tucked Clarissa in, who stirred. She opened her eyes briefly.

"Mama?"

"Yes, _bebe_?" Clarissa reached out a little hand and stroked her arm, where the lace of her dress was flowing out of the sleeves. Clarissa didn't want to take her nap.

Erik went off and brought back a small music box, in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of monkey in Persian robes and playing the cymbals. Christine smiled.

"Here _bebe_." she wound it up from it's bottom, and the monkey began to play.

Clarissa watched the small monkey until her eyelids drooped and closed finally. Christine set the box by the bed and took off her daughter's little ballerina shoes. Erik laughed softly.

"She didn't seem so shy performing for the ballet tarts, did she?" He sat next to his wife. "You've taught her well." Christine nodded and looked down at her linked hands.

"Erik-" She stopped, uncertain of her husband's reaction to her question.

He took her chin in his hand and pointed it toward him. "what is it? Too many memories?"

"No," she took the gloved hand that held her chin and slowly removed the gloves. She looked up and his face and sighed. "I want Clarissa to train with Madame Giry."

Erik's face hardened for an instant and he came off the bed. He paced around the room, then sharply whispered to Christine, "How could you think-" Then he stopped. A light came into both his eyes.

"I wonder…" He looked down at his angels. The one asleep, and the one pleading with her eyes. His little daughter was an exceptional dancer for her age. She paid attention, she liked to dance. This could also help Christine, if she were to stay in the opera scene, to return to the stage. Perhaps even start out dancing. He might not have to resort to "ghostly" schemes after all.

"Alright Christine. But only a couple times a week." She smiled. He sat on the bed once more, carefully so as not to wake his little one. "After all, you teach her so well, how do we know if another teacher might ruin her?" Christine laughed and hugged her husband.

"Oh, thank you, Erik." She rubbed her eyes lightly.

"I think my other angel would like some rest as well." Erik said. Christine took off her own shoes, and lay next to Clarissa.

"What will you do, love?" Erik took her hand.

"I believe I might explore a bit, perhaps set things to right. We'll stay here the night, I'll send word to the carriage. It might be nice to stay here at my old home once more." Christine yawned and nodded.

Before he could leave the bed, Christine reached up and grabbed the side of his face. She kissed him when he bent down then carefully removed his mask.

"Please," she remarked. He nodded and set the mask by his bed.

"Sweet dreams." He closed the black curtain around the bed and watched as his wife curled up with his daughter.

Erik moved around the lair and took in his destroyed home. Yes, his home. The other's never seemed real, but here, where music was worshiped, he felt at home. And nothing could deter him from staying a while and feeling whole again.


	4. No Going Back Now

**I Can't speak French, in case anyone who might've read this wondered, so don't hold me to the words I use. Please R&R.**

Chapter 4: No Going Back Now

Christine awoke to the sound of her little nymph giggling. She rose up on one elbow an looked to her daughter, standing by the great underground lake with her father. They were throwing rocks into it, Erik was making them skip, and Clarissa was splashing them both. Her stomach rumbled and the pair turned.

"Mama!" Clarissa skipped to her mother, and jumped on the bed.

"What are you doing up, eh?" She hugged her closely and pulled the rocks out of her hand. Christine threw them on the ground and dusted her little hands off.

"Mama! Papa was showing me how to throw."

"Yes, and getting you very dirty!"

She shook her head at Erik but he only shrugged.

"We were bored waiting for you."

"Well, be bored no more. Your mama is hungry!" Christine picked up her daughter and swung her around.

Erik admired them both, his little one bright-eyed and looking like her mother, and his wife, still mussed from sleep.

"I brought some food for us this morning." Erik lead them into his old planning room, where his mini-theatre replica among other items were stored. He sat them at a cleared table and brought out the food Madame Giry had secured for them.

"Will we start Clarissa today, Erik?" Christine began when they were done.

"Perhaps. It depends on Madame Giry and the rehearsals for….Hannibal." He looked to his wife, who was acting unconcerned. Clarissa jumped up in her chair and into her Papa's lap.

"Papa! The man said my name yesterday. Why did he say my name?"

Erik sighed. "You remember the story I told you about the lady Clarissa and her lover Hannibal, yes?" She nodded. "Well, there is an opera, a show where people sing…"

"Like Mama use to?"

Christine smiled sadly.

"_Oui, petite_."

"Well, the man in the theatre is going to perform it."

Clarissa couldn't understand so she shrugged, still happy to have her name mentioned.

"Would you like to dance today, Clarissa?"

Clarissa nodded, then turned her face into her father's coat.

"But Papa…"

"Yes?"

"All the people…"  
"I know." The child had the strangest mix of curiosity and fear. She was an exact mix of her mother and father. She stroked her Papa's unmasked cheek.

"Not hiding, Papa?"

"Not yet darling. Shall we?" Christine got up and got dressed in a dress that Madame Giry had gotten from their driver. She buttoned up the simple blue gown and grabbed Clarissa's shoes.

"Perhaps you should grab your own?" Erik held out her own ballet shoes and a leotard. Christine blushed.

"I'm not sure if I want to dance in front of all those people. I'm not the same girl I was then."

Erik brushed her face with his hand. "You look exactly how I remember you then. Just a little more mature." He turned to his daughter.

"Clarissa, let's go. " He put on his mask and but Clarissa on his hip.

The trio made their way around his lair and into the bowels of the opera house. They eventually reached the stage area, where costumers were pinning costumes to their charges. Slave girl outfits for the chorus girls…and grand gaudy things for the leads.

Christine could hear the giddy laughter and excitement of a rehearsal. She could smell the sweat of already warmed up bodies…and she yearned. She could see Meg putting chalk on her shoes and she wanted…

"I have to …" She took her tights, leotard and shoes, along with Clarissa, and went to a spare dressing room. She changed quickly and put both their shoes on. Erik watched with humor and sadness. He knew she'd missed this. She stood up and grasped Clarissa's hand.

"Well, no going back now."


	5. It's All a Ploy

**Unlike the French in the last chapter, I do know Italian, so enjoy. PLEASE R&R, this is so depressing, writing to no audience. Even if it sucks, tell me it sucks.**

Chapter 5: It's All a Ploy

As the music cued up for _Hannibal_, Christine gently led her daughter to the side of the stage. She tapped Madame Giry's shoulder. The ballet master turned and bestowed her with a dazzling smile. She picked up her cane and nodded.

"It is good to see you. Both of you." She took Clarissa's hand and led her to the back of the stage, where the sets were absent, still being created by stage hands. The back of the stage was empty, where Clarissa could watch, learn, and imitate the other dancers. Madame Giry led them both to just behind Meg and a few other girls. None of the singing chorus, nor Carlotta, were present.

"Ladies!" Madame Giry clapped her hands together and walked to the front. There she stood and barked out orders rapidly The girls lined up on the sides of the stage and raised their hands above their heads. The choreography had begun.

Christine whispered to Clarissa, "Stay back here and watch me. Maybe you can mimic too, no?" Christine, still standing in the back, began to follow Madame Giry's movements.

When the other ballerinas had time, they would glance back at her and either sneer or shake their heads. Meg only smiled at her, or little Clarissa. Apparently the rumor mills had started, and Christine was in danger of being shut out of the circle. The only card she had now, was little Clarissa.

Suddenly, in the middle of the frantic movements, Carlotta burst in the room shouting in Italian.

"_Non mi piace! No, no, no!" _Piangi followed behind her and they stopped in front of Christine. Christine snatched Clarissa up when they glared at her.

"_La Carlotta non canto con una puttana!"_ The message was clear enough. Christine was wanted to go. She held Clarissa close, who was now whimpering.

Monsieur Firmin came in and held up his hands.

"Signora, why must you constantly interrupt every rehearsal. Let's not begin this all over again."

"Or begin something else, right Christine?" Carlotta waved a little piece of parchment at her. Christine's heart slumped.

"We won't have anymore of these will we?" It was an old note. Christine sighed in relief.

"Carlotta," Firmin started, "she is only here for lessons for her daughter." Carlotta huffed.

"Then why is she dancing too?"

"I'm sorry Madame, but I was just practicing. I haven't had real practice since…"

"Since this place BURNED DOWN! _O mio Dio_!" Carlotta put a hand to her head. Firmin held up his hands again.

"Madame Daae is not coming back to sing! She is here for her daughter. A respectably married woman does not sing on stage anyway.." He turned red because he remembered Carlotta was married to Piangi.

"That's it! I'm going back to Rome! _Arrivaderci, signore! ArrivaderLa, signorina_ Daae, with the nowhere husband." Carlotta stormed out with Firmin and Piangi on her heels.

All the ballerinas glared at Christine. Clarissa burst out crying after the little snaffoo. Madame Giry came out and shushed the girls.

"Back to your places." She came to Christine.

"I'm so sorry, my dear." Clarissa's face and hands were buried in Christine's shoulder. She shook her head numbly.

"It's all our fault. I know that I shouldn't have comeback. I just miss the stage. Erik told me to try again and…oh Erik, why did I try again?" Christine searched the room with her eyes, in the darkness of the rafters and caught a glimpse of white. She shook her head in that direction.

"Perhaps now with the diva gone, you can. For now, you should go."

Christine nodded and moved out of the room with her crying child. She shook her head along the way. When she reached the pathway leading to the catacombs where Erik met them. She took one look at the half-face she loved so dearly and burst into tears. He took Clarissa with him and put his arm around Christine's shoulders.

"Now you'll be able to sing…aren't you happy?" Chrisitne threw his arm off and shook her head.

"You act as if it's good news that she called me a whore. She denied your existence as my husband, and now the whole of the opera hates me. I'm not happy."

She ran off down the hallway and into the dressing room halls. With his calls for her echoing behind her, she rushed into the old dressing room she use to call home. She shut the door and locked it, only to be faced with someone she hadn't seen in almost four years.

"Raoul!"


	6. Little Lottie Let Her Mind Wander

**R&R, thanks to those who have. I shake my fist at those who haven't.**

Chapter 6: Little Lottie Let Her Mind Wander

"Raoul! What are you doing here?" He looked the same, if not a bit more mature. But I suppose he could say the same for her. Especially since Christine was still in her warm-up outfit from the unaccomplished ballet rehearsals.

"I could ask you the same thing. Especially since I know who your husband is."  
Years before, when Christine had made her choice, Raoul had promised to keep her secret.

"You promised you wouldn't bring him back."

"I did no such thing." She gazed over his long hair, now pulled back in a ponytail. He still wore his finery, but he stooped a bit, as if defeated by an unseen force. Christine pitied him.

"You did. You said you wouldn't bring him back. He might get caught here. The police still want to question him in his…murders." He sat in the chair Christine use to sit in and look into her vanity.

"He's repented of that. He attends church-"

"That is your own personal affairs. I speak only of the past. Does a murderer not deserve to be punished even though he is sorry? What would you say if someone killed your father, and got away with it if he were sorry." Raoul shook his head. "Whatever makes you happy, Christine."

Christine's fists balled in anger. How dare he?

"How dare you? What makes you an exert on _my_ husband'smind_?"_

Raoul stood. "I only came back because I wanted to see…to see what was. I didn't come to argue with you. I shouldn't have come back." Christine's eyes softened.

"You have a right to. Please, if you wish to stay, do so. Would you-" She stopped. No, he wouldn't want to see Clarissa. The child that wouldn't have been, had she gone with him. They'd have their own children.  
" If you please? I wanted to be alone, here. We've said enough." He pointed at the door. Christine's shoulders slumped. She started for the door.

She glanced back at the mirror, and saw no one there. They were alone, perhaps. She turned. Erik would understand. She went back to his side and knelt before him. He peeked down at her.

"I'm sorry, Raoul. I never wanted us to part the way we did…."

_Christine? Christine?  
Christine could hear Raoul's cries as she broke free from the kiss that held her to her angel, her phantom…her Erik. She gasped and turned to see him coming to the gate that held the world at bay from the Phantom's dungeon._

_"What will we do?" Erik's eyes gleamed. She shook her head._

_"Not like that. I love him too…He was my first love. You have to stop the madness. Or I can never go with you." She stumbled back. His face of rage passed over into shock then sorrow. _

_Raoul stumbled upon the scene and frowned. He panted at the gate, hanging his soaked arms in the grates. Why was he holding her?  
"Lift the gate Erik," Christine ordered. Erik shook his head, but Christine was adamant. "LIFT IT!" He pulled the lever that started the lifting mechanism. He turned from them but Christine grasped his hand. She forced him to look at her._

_"I've made my choice already, and that won't change."_

_She made her way down to him, her childhood sweetheart. He grasped her around the waist and eyed the phantom. "Let's go." _

_Christine planted her feet. "No, Raoul. You need to understand. I love him…"_

"Why Christine?"

"I love him. I loved you once…" She couldn't explain it and shook her head. "It's different. You're like a brother. Erik is…different." She grasped his hand, he looked at it like it was completely foreign to him.

He reached out, tentatively, and touched her hair. He then took her in his arms, and whispered "Little Lottie." He stood abruptly and opened to door to leave, only to run into little Clarissa at the door.

She stood and gazed up at him with large eyes. She glanced past him to her Mama.

"Mama? Who is he?" Raoul's face was ashen.

"This is Monsieur De Changy, Clarissa. Introduce yourself." Christine walked behind him.

Clarissa executed a little bow and cried, "_Bonsoir, monsieur."_

He knelt on one knee. He took in her little ballerina dress, the shoes, and tights. Her brown eyes and curls reminded him of his Lotte. He looked back at Christine. He understood. This love was different.

"I must go, Christine. I must go on." He patted the young girl on her shoulder then moved past her. Clarissa stepped further into the room, cooing at the flowers and paintings. She turned to her Mama.

"Mama, who was that man?"

"My old friend, poppet. Let's go find Papa."


	7. You Were Once

Chapter 7: You Were Once…

"Erik this was such a terrible idea," Christine wept. She clung tightly to his lapels and soaked his coat.

Now back in the dungeon he use to call his home, they stood locked in embrace. He'd led her down and she followed. When Clarissa had found Christine she took her to where Erik was waiting in the wings.

"My love, you should not worry yourself so much. You're upsetting Clarissa."

It was true, Clarissa was on the floor playing with her doll, but watching them both with her mouth agape. Christine wiped her tears and nodded.

"I'm sorry. I just…I saw Raoul and he-"

"What? He what?" Erik grasped her upper arm in a tight grip. His face had gone fierce under the mask.

"He was just visiting when I found him in the dressing room." She cringed. Erik's moods were volatile at times.

"What did he say?" He released his grip but still led her to the organ bench, where they both sat. The bench had been repaired and his music was once again spread all over it. Clarissa followed them over with her dolly. Christine gathered her in her lap and tucked her head under her chin.

"He didn't say much. He asked me why. He looked so sad." She glanced down at Clarissa. "But when he saw Clarissa…" She shook her head.

"Poor Raoul."

"You made your choice. He should have gone on living."

"Would you have?" She peeled off his mask. Clarissa grabbed it and began playing with it, putting it on her dolly and on her face. She giggled and entertained herself, seeing as the adults were so boring right now.

Erik lowered his head. "Perhaps not."

"And the rehearsals today! Oh, Erik, I don't think it's best. Although Madame Giry could do wonders for Clarissa…I don't want to cause trouble. They all remember my reputation."

"And they should've remembered Carlotta's!"

"Well she's gone now."

"Yes, she is gone now." Erik's arm came around her. "I didn't even need to scare her off."

He stood up and put his hands on his hips. Erik surveyed his underground kingdom in satisfaction.

"We should begin."

Clarissa was taken back into the bedroom to sleep.

"From the top, Christine? Are you ready?"

"As ever."

**Yes, Yes, a short chapter. I just had to update. The next one will be better, it will be Hannibal…but what problems can happen when Carlotta returns unhappy? Or tries to discover Christine's husband? Expect updates this week. R&R.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sharing in My Triumph

The day started with a note. It read:

Dear Madame Daee,

I would like to ask that you come to the final rehearsals for Hannibal today, so that we might finalize your comeback to the Opera Populaire. I would greatly appreciate it, if you would sing the title role of Clarissa when we open this evening.

Yours,

Monsieur Firmin.

With trembling hands, Christine folded the note back up and put it back into Erik's hands. She looked up at him sadly and shook her head. She was speechless. Erik put a hand on her back.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Yes but…not this way. You said that Carlotta was snooping around yesterday and you know she'll try to do something!"

"She won't go against the Phantom and win." Erik shook his head and his hand hardened against her back. She shied away.

"No, Erik. No matter what-" She put her hands on his face and pushed his gaze towards her. "No matter what, do not do that! I can't live with it if you do that again."

"But if she threatens us, or Clarissa-"

"Then I go to the gendarme. Erik, promise me!"

"What if she tries to hurt us and it's self-defense?"

She took off his mask slowly. She stroked his cheek and kissed him long and hard. His eyes went slightly hazy. Then his eyes cleared and he shook his head.

"Fine. But don't think your little trick works on me. I can do the same to you if I'd like."

"Oh yeah? Well, we'll see tonight won't we?"

He tickled her mercilessly before Clarissa came over demanding attention as well. Erik had to tickle her as well, didn't he? He continued his tickle tirade on both of his women until the fun had worn off and they all laid back on the bed in exhaustion.

Clarissa curled up into a little ball and sighed. Christine stroked her hair back off her now sleeping face. Erik picked her up and set her at the top of the bed by the pillows. He pulled the blanket up around her.

"She's been very engaged and excited lately. I'm glad she's napping," Christine remarked.

"Yes, and while she is, we can go practice!"

"Oh, Erik, please. We've practiced for years. I'd rather do something else," she said as she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes? Well mon ange, I can arrange that."

She jumped up. "Catch me first, monsieur le phantom!" She ran out to the other spare Louis Phillipe room as he followed.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Think of Me Fondly

Christine stretched backstage and watched the familiar dancers do their positions. She flashed back into her own days as a dancer, her fun she had with Meg. She continued to stretch despite the fact she was only singing. A singer's body, Erik had taught her, was much like a dancers: a fine tuned instrument.

This instrument must be maintained at all times. Becoming lazy and fat like Carlotta took a toll on how you could control your instrument. Your diaphragm worked the air through your voice and kept your throat from strain. She'd learned so much from her beloved.

Madame Giry walked by and patted her on the back.  
"Good luck, my dear." 

Christine nodded and adjusted her dress. She'd refused to wear the giant headdress that Carlotta wore before, but instead wore her hair in a long braid, threaded with ribbons cascading down her back. Her makeup was still thick, but not gaudy like most. She walked by Meg and lightly tapped her shoulder.

"Good luck, Meg. Here's to nostalgic performances."

"You too, Christine. I'm sure you'll do well too."

The music for the overture started and the ballet girls ran out in their chains. Christine put on her most convincing haughty look and walked out. The crowd cheered. The Opera was back.

Carlotta put on her most demure gown and flounced her hair in the mirror. She stared at her marvelous reflection. If that freak thought that he and his wife would take away her spotlight, they were mad. She would always be Clarissa. No one could take her place.  
She glanced into the back of the parlor at her husband Piangi. He was straightening his tie and looking very nervous. Truth be told, so was she. He'd almost been killed by that maniac three years ago. She watched him rub at his neck before she huffed out a breath.  
"Piangi, andiamo."  
"Si, si, si. Ma, primo…" He held her waist and gently kissed her cheek. She touched the spot.  
"Un baccio, per me?" She was surprised at his spontaneous kiss. He nodded.  
Arm in arm they walked out, ready to go out on to the opera scene. To an onlooker, one might sigh at how cute the married couple could be. But if you knew their thoughts, you'd soon realize that no one could see what they had in store.  
When they did arrive, they nodded civilly to people. Some recognized them, others shied away. But there was a buzz about the opening. And hushed whispers of fear. No one wanted to be trampled again in a fiery opera. But it was too wonderful to resist.  
The pomp and glamour. The intrigue and romance. The fear and death.  
Carlotta took her seat in a box reserved normally for her friends watching her on the stage. She glanced over at box 5 and sneered. She hoped that thing was there.

Erik hoped that thing was there. Watching his Christine beat the pants out of her. He lurked in the shadows of Box 5, an excited Clarissa in his lap. She stirred and twirled and tried to get away, but he held her fast on his lap. She whimpered but he only gave her a lollipop, with which she stuck in her mouth and happily sucked away.  
He spotted Carlotta just as she did him. They both glared. He could see her ugly blue dress flashing in the gas light, she could see the flash of a white mask. He would need to watch her very carefully tonight.  
Just as he wondered if not bringing his lasso was a mistake, the music started. The audience burst with applause and the overture was played. When in commenced, Christine swaggered onstage in a gaudy red gown. She must've been taking lessons from Carlotta.  
"These trophies! From our saviors…."  
Clarissa jumped up in her seat.  
"Papa! It's Mama! Ohhh, pretty Mama!" She chattered to herself and Erik listened with half an ear.

Little did they know that someone was lurking behind the box waiting for their attention to be diverted at the right time. Little did that lurker know that box 5 was for Phantom's only. Little did Carlotta know that her plan might just have gone off course.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Track Down This Murderer

Carlotta had paid well for him. He'd do his job. Vincenzo had come from Milan to visit his second cousin when she'd wrote to him of her problems in Paris. Vincenzo had often helped his baby cousin in their homeland of Italy, but now he was on foreign soil. He'd have to think quickly in order to do his job.

Carlotta whispered a little prayer of hope before placing her opera glasses on her nose. She looked into Box 5 and waited. 

Erik shivered as a draft blew past him. He looked back just in time to see the glint of a knife in the dark. He sprung up, dropping Clarissa to the floor. She cried out then crawled behind her Papa.  
Erik grabbed the man's knife and turned it around. the two struggled. When Erik finally managed to punch the assailant in the face, he also grabbed the knife. The man swore at him in Italian. Erik raised a brow.  
"it's not nice to call someone who's just defeated you a-"  
Erik glanced at Clarissa who was cowering behind him.  
"Well, a bad name. Clarissa." He turned to her. She stood slowly.

The music continued to play loudly, masking the scuffle. Only Carlotta and Piangi were made aware of it. They stood in their box and gasped as they watched the Phantom pummel their assassin.

His father was the head of the Gozetti crime family of Italy. He was one of the best...he'd killed all those others in Italy hadn't he? Apparently Paris was not for him.  
"Pieta, monsieur! I am sorry. Mi scusi!"  
"Who hired you?" The masked man asked him.  
"Non so...uhhhh no one. I-"  
Erik snapped the man's hand back, making a sickening crack. Clarissa gasped.  
"Clarissa, don't look at Daddy, look at Mama on stage."  
Clarissa whimpered but did as she was told, only glancing back once when Erik kicked the man in the groin. He fell to the ground then muttered..."Piangi."  
"Oh really? That spineless slime? I doubt it. tell your...friend Carlotta that I'll not be killed so easily."  
Erik quickly glanced at the stage, and his bride. He let Vincenzo go and he ran away.

Erik looked to the box across his. Carlotta and Piangi were gone...and Christine was going offstage for a costume change.  
"Come Clarissa." Erik had to hurry if he was to save his beloved.

Christine had to hurry if she was going to make her costume change. It was a wonderful first part of Act I. She felt alive again. She wanted to burst with joy. The pain of the last few days was negated. She Tied up the bow in front of her bosom then began to trudge back out into the wings of the stage.  
She heard a rustle behind her...then a shout. It sounded an awful lot like Erik. But why would he be here? She had to go back out!

"Christine!" Erik was frantic. He'd found Madame Giry and foisted Clarissa on her before frantically moving to find Christine. When he thought he'd caught a glimpse of her, she'd moved off onto the stage again. He sighed in relief. At least someone wouldn't try to get her onstage.

Madame Giry came running up with Clarissa clinging to her.  
"What is wrong, Erik?"

"I caught an assasin trying to kill me. I think they might be after Christine as well."

Carlotta rushed to her old dressing room. She flung open the door and aimed her pistol inside. No one. She groaned then turned to Piangi. A wild light had come into her eyes.  
"I need her DEAD!" Piangi backed away slightly.  
"No, wait..." she trailed off. No this wouldn't do. The pain of losing Christine would make the Phantom come after her and her lover. She knew what she must do. She must hit them where it hurt most.  
With their little one.

Carlotta calmly placed the pistol back in her handbag. She turned to Piangi and smiled. "La figlia." Piangi shivered. He didn't know what she meant by referring to Christine's daughter, but it frightened him, more than he'd ever been frightened before

Christine was a success. Once intermission began, she ran into her husband and daughter backstage. Clarissa seemed distraught and Erik was frowning. What a warm welcome this was. She followed them into the dressing room then huffed out a breath.  
"What a warm welcome!" She threw her gloves on the dresser then paced.  
"Erik say something!"  
Erik handed her Clarissa then nodded. "Well then...Carlotta's trying to kill us. How about that?"


End file.
